


The Soul of a Beast

by Synapsida



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Drugs, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Shapeshifter!Sole, Slow Burn, Sole is not Nora, Vault-Tec is an asshole and needs to stopplaying with FEV, Yao Guai, hancock first appears in chapter 7, the slowest of burns, will adjust tags accordingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-03-17 23:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synapsida/pseuds/Synapsida
Summary: Hazel is Noras beloved sister and thus, is given entry to a Vault after Nate pulled a few strings with the military. She accepts, albeit reluctant, and soon finds herself in not only a new world - but also in a body that behaves drastically different then she is used to.She'll have to make friends fast to survive in a world that's as hostile and violent as the Post-War Commonwealth.And who would be better suited to help someone lost then the mayor himself?





	1. Sisterly Affection

**Author's Note:**

> I am very very very excited to show you all this. After thinking very long about what I wanted to write and about which story I wanted to tell I had something come up to me. I didn't want to do a retelling of Noras story - instead, Hazel sprang to mind. A little bit younger. A little bit different. Someone who just got in because of her family but never actually wanted in at all - and now thrown into the Commonwealth with no family, no idea what happened to her.
> 
> Since Hazels story is a new one in an old setting I decided to start her story at ... well .. the beginning. I hope you'll like it nonetheless :)
> 
> The Wasteland stuff starts in chapter 2 (going anti popsicle), the „we meet canon people“ part starts in chapter 4 (which is in proof reading right now!)
> 
> Additional notes at the end

  __

 

> John Hancock and Hazel - [Picture by May-Fire-Yana](https://may-fire-yana.tumblr.com/)

* * *

 

 

_ The creature did not always have a mind filled with blood. _  
_ It did not always revel in flesh being torn apart with bared teeth and feast on the pain of claws in its skin trying to break free in agony._  
_ There had not been the thrill of the hunt before - for those were human emotions. Emotions it did neither comprehend nor call its own._  
_ It had just been - feeding when need came to be and resting when the winter came with biting frost._  
_ Everything had changed after._  
_ After the smell of metal and the sting of thousand bees in its leathery skin._  
_ Everything had changed after._  
_ After the walls of stone so close and unbreakable._  
_ After another thousand bees stinging._  
_ After the sound of a thunder storm rumbling and the prickle of the storm prodding and poking and aching deep within its bones and guts._  
_ It closed its eyes one time and woke up with a mind filled with blood on another.  
And when it closed its eyes now it wanted to scream. Scream until the sky turned red. Scream until the blood faded. Scream until everything came undone that was now, but had not been before._

***

** 2077 - Boston **

„Of course you’re invited over for dinner, don’t be an idiot.“  
Nora laughed over the phone. It was a sound that always prompted Hazel to smile. She saw her sister right before her eyes - blonde hair swinging around her face in a short bob as it was fashionable. Red lips, pulled upwards, open, her head thrown back. Brown eyes half closed while laughing.  
  
Hazel never had the charm that came to Nora so easily and readily at any time. Where Nora was beautiful and admired, a lawyer that had just taken time off from her job to fulfill her role as a mother and devoted wife to a military husband, Hazel had always felt second class.   
It was a sibling thing of course. The usual love-hate gig.

She was not a lawyer, sure, but worked as a mechanic in Boston - repairing cars, fixing Mr. Handys, whatever came by her small garage. And she was a fairly good one. She couldn’t even imagine being anything else if she were honest with herself. 

Whenever time and confidentiality allowed it Nora told bits and pieces about the latest case or crazy story (more often than not one and the same) with her and although she’d never admit it to her sister she found it all utterly mind-numbingly boring. She loved working with her hands and she loved the smell of oil and machinery. The sizzling of electronics made her downright gleeful.  
But still.  
Sometimes she wished she had that air of self assurance her sister had. The little house with the front garden and the whole husband and child thing. Sometimes it had a nice ring to it.

„I don’t wanna bother you, Nor.“ she said instead of voicing any of her thoughts, balancing a wrench in her free hand.  
„Seriously.“ she started before Nora even had the chance to interrupt.  
Hazel could’ve sworn to hear her take a deep breath.  
  
„Not with Shaun and all that. I bet you have your hands full with everything.“  
„You know, that is what we have Codsworth for.“  
Sure. How could she forgot. Her sisters very own Mr. Handy. A gift from the military for her sisters husbands long years of service. She rolled her eyes, all to herself.  
  
„Is Amanda in town?“ Nora asked, her voice having a slight pitch.  
Why did her sister have to be a lawyer of all things. Hazel exhaled slowly and put down the wrench, shrugging although she knew Nora couldn’t see it. Not that she needed to. She knew anyway.  
„She’s not.“ Nora answered her own question when waiting for an answer proved futile.  
„Case closed, Nora. You’re off the clock, remember?“  
„I’m never off the clock, sweetheart.“  
  
Repressing the urge to mimic a gag, Hazel rolled her eyes once more and replied instead.  
„She’s off to Washington. Some literature gig, visiting her parents, y’know. The usual stuff.“  
Which was her coded version of ‚we’re at the ‚off‘ part of our on-and-off-relationship at the moment, if you enquire any further i’ll just hang up on you‘.  
Instead of digging deeper Nora shifted the conversation back to dinner this evening.  
  
„Great, with that settled, you come over to us. I’ve got a little surprise for you I wanna show you anyway.“  
Hazel opened her mouth. Took a breath. And then resigned, knowing better than to argue any further with her sister.  
„Is 6 okay for you, or is it too late?“  
„Six is perfect.“  
  
Somewhere in the background Hazel heard the familiar voice of Codsworth and the sudden cry of a baby.  
„Okay, gonna hang up now. You show up, or else."  
„Or you’ll send your big soldier boy after me. Got it. Got it.“  
Hazel laughed with Nora this time.  
„Bye, Sis. Love you.“

Given all things her garage was neither big nor fancy, but it kept her afloat and people came back after their first visit because she was fast and didn’t try to rip her customers off. It was a fair deal for everyone. People here in Boson had grown on her. Everyone was busy with themselves, not usually minding anyone else business too much - as long as she wasn’t too flamboyant about anything she did, they’d leave her in peace and provide her with a steady income. Noras invitation was of course the perfect excuse to put off working on Mr. Browns TV, so instead she closed off the garage for today. With traffic as it was nowadays getting out of Boston and out to that provincial outskirt would take ages.

Hazel knew she should be more grateful - grateful of a family that accepted her as she was. Grateful for her job and for the niche she’d carved herself. And yet.

***

„There you are.“ Nate said, his arms crossed in front of his chest, face as unreadable as ever. His hair dared to grew out of the buzz cut that was military standard - a sure sign of the leave from duty he had after Shaun was born.  
„I hope my sis hasn’t gone overboard …“ Hazel lifted a skeptical eyebrow at Nate.  
„I don’t know who’s been more excited for you to visit. Her or Codsworth.“  
  
Hazel locked her car - not that it was necessary, Sanctuary was a ‚good neighborhood‘ after all - and followed after Nate, voicing the appropriate amount of praise for the beautiful home her sister and that husband of hers had made for themselves.  
  
And of course Nora had gone overboard with the food - she’d have to take home half an apple pie and enough other food to ignite another uprising on her return home.  
„But first …“ Nora said, just as Hazel had done the ‚oh look at the time I have to go‘ dance and after tucking a crying and miserable Shaun into bed. Her bigger sister sat down at the kitchen table while the sound of Codsworth singing a song to the infant carried faintly over to them. Hazel could’ve sworn that that Mr. Handy sang the Marseillaise.  
  
Nate took a sip from a bottle of beer, the expression of his face resting somewhere between tired and solemn now. She would never know what exactly it was that had prompted the head-over-heels marriage with him - maybe it was the military looks, Hazel didn’t know. Couldn’t read the guy as well. She turned back to her sister instead.  
„But first?“ she asked, raising another quizzical eyebrow. At this rate it would get stuck there at some point of her life.  
  
Nora shuffled in her seat. A little nervous wiggle she had always done as a child when she was anxious to finally tell a secret.  
„I got this for you.“ her delicate hand shoved a piece of paper over to Hazel. Noras hands were actually shaking faintly.  
„Vault-Tec?“  
  
Nora looked almost embarrassed now, giving her sister a shy half shrug. Nate took another sip from his beer, apparently having long decided to keep out of sisterly quarrels.  
„Nate and I got into a Vault … and knowing how busy Boston is … I know you’re not a big fan … but …“  
Nora shrugged again now regaining most of her posture and pulling her best i’m-on-your-case-if-you-want-it-or-not smile onto her face.  
„I dunno…“  
  
It was now Hazels turn to shrug.  
„That must cost a million bucks, Nor. I can’t possibly repay you that.“  
„Shush.“  
Angry wrinkles appeared on Noras forehead.  
„You don’t have to. And it was Nate anyway. He pulled a few strings with the military.“  
Hazels eyes shot over to Nate who was now very busy fiddling with the label on his beer bottle. He really didn’t want to be part of that conversation and Hazel wondered how exactly all of this had went down before Nora could present that piece of paper to her.  
  
„You don’t have to sign it now. Just take it home with you. Read it through. Then drop it off with the nearest Vault-Tec representative.“  
Hazel barely kept a snort contained. Those guys weren’t exactly hard to find. They basically swarmed the city nowadays, leeching off of the fears of the people.  
„I’ll look into it, sure …“ she conceded.  
„Please, Hazel, sweetheart?“  
  
Hazel looked up at the sound of a hopeful smile in Noras voice. She thought again of the trouble she must’ve gone through to secure that opportunity for her.  
„Just want to know you’re safe down there.“  
„Sure. I’ll look into it.“  
She caught Nates glance - a hard line in his face that hadn’t been there before. A face that told everything and nothing and only allowed a glimpse into whatever discussion had happened here before that.  
„I promise, Nor. I’ll get it done.“

Noras face had lightened up at that and in the end Hazel had put her damn signature on the paper and put it into the hands of the nearest Vault-Tec representative as soon as she was back in Boston - a lean guy with a beige fedora and the slimy smile one would expect from a mollusk. She didn’t like Vault-Tec and their fear mongering any better. Just as much as she didn’t like the military any better or the war for that matter. But she also never expected to actually have to go there, use the bunker and a few hours later she had almost forgotten about it.


	2. In All Her Dreams She Drowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel awakes in an unfamiliar world

A voice talked calmly in the distance - and then was drowned by a cacophony of a thousand sounds at once:  
Screeching, screaming, tearing sounds of metal, fabric and a dull wet noise that kickstarted an instinct to vomit deep down in her throat. That voice in the distance still spoke. Still talked idly away as if nothing was happening at all.  
  
A second sensation beyond the uproar from outside seeped through into her thinking mind: She was unbearably cold. Not the casual, superficial cold you felt on a brisk winter eve when stepping outside for a moment to watch the skies - but the bone deep cold of a long sleep. A deep cold she associated with freezing and dying in the snow.God. Even her guts felt cold.  
How was that even possible. It shouldn’t be.  
She felt her heart pump faster as another instinct kicked in: The instinct to survive.

There was a third sensation that kicked in: Rational, aware thought. It was a sensation she found comforting and strangely unfamiliar at the same time.  
Her eyes were cold. A stream of expletives filled her mind asking how and why this was possible until she shoved them away.  
Her fingertips came alive with a burning sensation now, as did her feet. It was a herd of fire ants that slowly crawled up her limbs, waking each synapse individually. An experience she could have absolutely lived without.  
  
And then one last sensation came to her, even more unpleasant then anything before: Breathing.  
But instead of air all she pulled in was water. She tore open her eyes, gasping without a sound, only gulping down more of that horrid, terrible fluid that filled her nose and mouth and lungs.

_ Oh God.  _

_ I’m drowning. _

_ I’m drowning. _

She started to kicking with her feet. There was nothing to see beyond the water, the green fluid that filled her vision, but shadow.  
Instinct forced her to kick harder, desperate for air. Her back pressed against the back of her prison she kicked frantically, opened her mouth to scream scream scream but nothing but fluid came out of her. Her lungs spasmed painfully.  
  
The dull - thumb - thumb - thumb of her feet kicking filled her ears now and silenced everything else.

_THUMB THUMB THUMB **CRACK**_

Yes. That was it. Her lungs hurt. Convulsing painfully, cramping desperate for air.  
  
_THUMB **CRACK** THUMB_

Yes. She could see the crack, she heard how fluid began to drip.  
  
_THUMB THUMB **CRACK**_

The front panel broke with a final crash and the green fluidflooded out of the compartment - she collapsed to the ground, her muscles protesting and aching under the strain.  
She bent over and vomited. Fluid from her lungs, still cramping. Fluid from her stomach. From her mouth, her nose. There seemed to be no end as her body convulsed again and again and again. She tried to steady herself, finally taking deep breaths of stale humid air in, before her body took over once more and she succumbed to another wave of green liquid pouring out her.  
  
_The fuck. What the fuck._  
  
Shaking and still miserably cold she steadied herself and waited. Waited for steps. Waited for voices to come closer. Waited for anything to happen at all.  
Nothing did. That voice she heard was louder now, more audible but obviously artificial. She carefully lifted her head to look around.

Hazel gasped, her voice raw, the sound almost animal like. Shock immediately began to numb those first moments and layered her consciousness with a soft cushion of not registering and not seeing.  
  
Hazel took in the sight of tubes in front of her. There were three in a perfect line. She turned her head and saw two more left to her own tube. Most of them were broken. The fluid long dried up. Black mold had crawled all over the metallic ground and formed a disgusting carpet beneath her naked feet. Figures sat sunken or sprawled out in the tubes. Some human. Others animal. Nausea pressed hard against her throat and she forced her eyes away from the tubes, down the narrow hallway.  
Each tube was equipped with a computer panel but the lights were out on most of them. Only her tubes panel glowed faintly. She forced her legs under her to straighten up, aiding herself by pulling herself up with her arms. Her muscles protested and by the time she had worked herself into an upright position she was already exhausted. She stared at her feet on the ground only to realize that she was naked.  
  
Finding something to dress moved up on her priority list, her brain switching to mere practicality.  
„Hello…?“  
Silence. No cacophony, no screeching metal anymore, nothing but the digitalized voice in the distance.  
„Any… anyone here? Is there someone? Anyone?“  
Water dropped somewhere. The faint song of electricity around her.  
"I need help.... HELP....please ... ?"  
No one answered and a heavy feeling settled in her gut.  
She carefully pulled herself over to the panel in front of her tube.

 

> ** „Subject 23/F/B617/HZL“ **

Hazel blinked. Her hair was plastered uncomfortably on her forehead, dripping wet and ... strange.  
She couldn’t shake the sensation that everything about her body felt strange - unfamiliar, uncomfortable, as if wearing a dress that was several numbers too short for her. Or too big. It itched her to dig her fingernails into her skin, just to see if it would come off and reveal someone else underneath.  
  
_Or something._  
  
She groaned and tried to push those thoughts away, instead forcing her eyes away from the computer.  
There was a pile of sealed Vault suit stacked nearby, conveniently in three different sizes and she found one that fitted her. She was still wet inside the suit after she had pulled it over, but at least she felt the warmth of the temperature regulating fabric seep into her. A pair of socks and heavy issue boots later she almost felt human again - she still refused to look over to the other tubes and instead decided to move down the narrow hallway into the direction of the voice.

Walking was painfully slow and she began to wonder how long she’d been in that tube and if she had run a marathon before entering it.  
Well. Of course she had. She had sprinted down the streets of Scollay Square just after the warning issued. She’d never ran as fast as that in her life. She’d never felt as scared as that either.  
Once more she pushed the thoughts away.  
_Focus. Hazel. Just Focus now._

" _ **Environmental control alert. Section 1A-3B are affected.**_

_** Biostasis chamber alert. No Life Signs in Pod1A. ** _

_** Biostasis chamber alert. No Life Signs in Pod2A. ** _

_**Biostasis chamber alert. No Life Signs …**_ “

The computer droned on and on about which Pods and environmental systems had broken down.   
It droned on as Hazel ripped open the wrappings of a chocolate bar with shivering fingers and ate it whole within seconds, ignoring the stale taste.  
It droned on as Hazel found a security baton on a skeleton in the corner - another thing the soft confused cushion in her brain put away into the fog for later access and processing.

It hadn’t come to an end when she found an 11mm pistol and some ammunition, forced down another chocolate bar and pried a pip-boy off the arm of another skeleton in a white lab coat. She was very careful to wipe off the black mold with one sleeve of the dead scientists coat and winced when the bones of his hand fell down, one finger still loosely clinging to a string of mummified sinew. Yet another thing for that fuzzy little cloud of shock and adrenaline. Another thing to fuel the nausea that crept forward anyway.  
  
She stretched, exhausted and aching but unwilling to stay here even a second longer. Whatever had happened here, she wouldn't stay to find out if it'd happen again.  
There were three more hallways leading away from the room she had entered. Two lead into other tube-chambers, just like her own - glass broken and damp moist air. Figures huddled or lying around. Black mold. A feeling of sickness and nausea perpetuating everything. She didn’t bother entering them. Perhaps she would come back. Perhaps not. Another point on the endlessly growing list of things she didn’t want to think about.

The third hallway led to a glassdoor, where she caught the first glimpse of her face - and immediately recoiled in horror and shock. The shock was enough to perpetuate the soft cushion in her brain and reinforced the lingering sensation of something being fundamentally wrong.  
She took a deep breath. Stepped back. Closed her eyes. Then she opened her eyes again and stared straight ahead into theface the glass presented her.  
  
It was her face.  
  
But there was a pervasive wrongness about it, an otherness. That feeling to dig her nails into her skin was back. She raised her hand. Damp hair. Nutbrown with a tinge of red in it. Plastered against her head and cut short. Almost military short. Grey eyes with a speckle of green in them. Her hand crept over skin - her skin - the other skin. Her eyebrows. Sure. The nose. A little big, but. Her fingers - small, the muscles almost atrophic - touched that nose and discovered a huge dent, no, a gauge really. Some part was missing. The skin still stretched over the bridge of her nose, was intact - a wound long healed - but it was a visible dent, a piece of nose simply missing. She couldn’t remember having a wound that cost her part of her nose. She couldn’t remember a wound that would leave such a scar on her face. A scar that broke her left eyebrow into two and nicked her upper lip just so. She wasn’t, she searched for a better word but didn’t find one, disfigured when she had entered the vault.  
  
Hazel bent her fingers. Her fingers dug into her left cheek until she saw a soft trickle of blood.  
_What are you doing. Stop it._  
She stared back at her reflection and then forced herself to continue to walk. Another point on that endless list.

After that she picked up speed, determined to leave the vault for good. As the cogs that moved the airlock turned just minutes later, for the the first time in nearly two hundred years.  
And although she didn't know it opened to a world she'd barely recognize anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commonwealth, here we come :) Leave Kudos or a comment, I always answer!


	3. Ash And Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commonwealth turns out to be more hostile in a lot more ways than Hazel is used to.  
> But there is also hope to be found.

She sat at the bottom of a withering tree, arms slung around her legs, the gaze of her grey eyes turned to what remained of the Boston skyline.On the way to that tree - it was not any particular tree. Just a tree that had been standing there and seemed most inviting - she had killed amonstrous insect. A terrible, bloated creature that made the skin of her neck crawl with disgust. She had simply beaten it with her security baton until it stopped moving, until it stopped making those horrible wet noises. It's fluids were splattered across her vault suit, the stink of them making her gag. She shivered violently and then she sat down. Ignored the skeletons she had passed on the way and ignored the street with abandoned rotting cars and the rest of the wasted land she had crossed until she could sit down under this tree and watch the Boston skyline.

It was as unfamiliar as her own face was.  
The setting sun pronounced each fallen building, shown an unforgiving light onto each skyscraper half torn apart. Decay infiltrated everything she saw and touched, gave the distinct impression of a struggling dying world.  
  
_Why move.  
_  
She felt a deep hopelessness raise its ugly head. A thick lump formed in her throat and she tried to push it back down. Back into the haze that had so lovely encompassed the last few hours.  
Why move any further. There was nothing left to see. Nothing left to touch. Had it been one year or ten years since she had entered that vault? Did it matter?  
Perhaps not. She had not seen any sign of living humans. Maybe she had just escaped that hellhole to starve to death in this dying land.  
  
_Oh the irony._

A movement stirred far to her right, she noticed it but chose to ignore it. Whatever it was, she didn’t care. Or so she told herself. More horrid insects perhaps. Whatever nature had concocted while time had passed.  
The sound of crunching leaves and breaking branches grew more pronounced mere seconds later. Whatever it was, it was slowly moving into her direction. Perhaps attracted by her scent, perhaps sensing her helplessness.  
  
Any yet it was not enough to move her from her silent watch. Maybe what would happen would happen quick and fast and she would be swallowed by the great calamity like everyone else had.  
  
More seconds passed. More rustling leaves and another breaking branch and then an exhale of air from lungs too big to be human. A sniffing and rustling in the undergrowth. Hazel looked up now, wild untamed strains of hair falling into her face not yet long enough to obscure her view. She instinctively reached for the pistol at her side as the lumbering beast came into view.  
  
If she wanted to or not - something inside her still wanted to live, urged her to move, forced her to act now, act sensibly, survive.  
She drew a surprised breath - the twisted figure of something that might’ve been a bear once stepped from the sparse undergrowth, its disfigured snout pressed to the ground. Four bulky legs moved it slowly into her direction and she was convinced after half a look that despite its decaying nature the creature would be as fast as its distant cousins she had once seen in Washington Zoo.  
  
Thoughts went through her mind in quick succession. Some more sensible than others.  
_Okay, Hazel. Breath now._  
_Get up very slowly._  
_Does that stuff they said about grizzlies still apply here?  
BEARS in BOSTON?_

She pulled herself up and as soon as she did so the creature lifted its callow head - black eyes stared at her in what she assumed was some sort of confusion. Despite the situation a throaty laugh escaped her mouth. Even in her own ears the sound seemed pitiful.  
„You're as confused as I am, buddy?“ she asked, voice quivering with the adrenaline pushing through her veins.

The joke was futile. Of course. The creature still stared at her. The depth hidden behind its black eyes comforting and appalling at the same time.  
That feeling of otherness that had followed her all the way from the vault grew stronger now, a variation of nausea that felt like a fist pressed into her gut. She took a deep breath and steadied herself at the tree. The monster still did not move. They were both trapped in a trance of both enthrallment, confusion and disgust at the sight of each other.  
  
„Go away buddy. Please.“ she whispered.  
  
Nothing happened. It sniffed the air again and she could smell the foul scent it emanated now. Flakes of skin peeled off its back and she could see scars cover its body - some bigger then anything even another bear-monster could've possibly inflicted. Hazel regretted her premature assessment of a dead world. This world was very much alive, hostile and she was at the very bottom of the food chain.  
  
With a growl the creature got up on its hind legs, towered over Hazel and took deep pronounced breaths through its nose.  
Hazel took a step back - and thus broke the spell that had captivated them both. Time began to move forward again, dragged her mercilessly forward.  
With an ear deafening roar the bear creature slumped back on all fours - Hazel could feel the ground rumble under her feet. She lifted her gun and fired once, twice. The beast roared once more, now enraged, baring its massive canines at her. Blood splattered on the leaves and branches surrounding them, splashed in her face. She fired another quick succession of shots. It roared again. She turned around and ran for her life.

The ground beneath her feet rumbled with the creatures paws hitting the earth behind her. It was galloping now and roaring and she was running, running for her dear life. Adrenaline pushed her forward, commanded her to ignore the pain that shot up her joints and muscles. She swayed around a tree to make a sharp turn and the thing just crashed into the small obstacle and obliterated it. Hazel gasped with the pain of splinters burrowing into the exposed skin of her neck. Her lungs were burning. She had never been a sprinter and only once ran for her life - and she knew where that had landed her.  
  
She took another turn around a tree. One big another for the creature to slow down and adjust its trajectory. Enough time to fire another two shots. The thing groaned and roared with pain, now leaving a faint trail of blood behind it. She could see a faint shape several hundred meters ahead, just uphill from where she was heading. The shape became clearer as she ran and she strained her muscles beyond anything a doctor would've called wise. It was either a pulled muscle or dying.  
  
A house. An actual house. Hazel tried to pick up some more speed, the beast now close at her heels. She could hear it breath and gasp. Apparently not a sprinter either. The air entered and left its lungs with a rasping steady sound and was closely followed by the all encompassing smell of its bad breath and rotting flesh.  
To her luck the front door of the house was broken down halfway. She was so close now.  
  
She felt a draft of wind at her leg and the pinch of a near miss.  
The sound of the bear thing appeared more distant for a second and she could only assume that it had tried its luck to hit her and missed.  
Hazel was not going to turn around to stop and ask it.  
The door was within arms reach now. She braced for impact and threw herself shoulder first into the house.

Her landing was accompanied by several things: Her own thump as she crashed onto the wooden floor and a hundred years worth of dust were thrown into the air. The hard crash of the creature taking half the door with it, then getting stuck and fighting to get free. The sound of its claws breaking apart rotten boards. Its furious howl as it realized it could not reach her, not without working its way through the door first. Hazel scrambled to her feet and, without daring to look at the beast, climbed the brittle stairs up to the second floor. The steps nearly gave way under her own weight and she hoped that it would work in her favor once the creature broke free.   
There was no question it would - she threw a glance over her shoulder and the bear-thing pushed past the doors and into the house.

It came after her, sniffing and huffing and so god damn angry. Thoughtless and senseless it set a foot on the first step on the stairs and broke right through it. Groaning and trashing it freed its foot, moved it up another step and broke through the brittle wood again. It howled again, tore the handrail apart with one sweep from its mighty claws. Hazel shuddered to think about what would've happened if the creature had reached her. If that inch had not been there to safe her, if instead of air and a faint prick the claw had ripped her leg apart. And it would have. Would've shredded her flesh before she would've noticed what had happened. Another wave of nausea struck her but thankfully vanished as fast as it came.

Hazel dared to lean out of sight now, behind a wall with yellowed wallpaper and slumped to the ground, her fingers grasping around her aching and burning calves. Everything just hurt so fucking much. She had stumbled into a world of pain without escape.  
The beast below her roared once more before it finally turned around, cheated of its meal, and left the house with a rumbling sound.  
  
The young women let her head fall back to the wall. She had stumbled into a world of pain with no relieve so far. She reloaded her 10mm, counted the ammunition, thanked Nate for taking her and Nor to the shooting range and then closed her eyes.  
  
_Sis ..._  
  
She hadn't thought about them yet. Were they dead? Caught in a vault? Was there perhaps a way to get into their vault?  
How much time had passed, she asked herself.   
There was that lump in her throat again and this time she didn't push back, didn't fight it.   
She felt the trickle of tears on her cheeks.   
The trickle became a stream and shortly after all dams broke and she hid her face in her sleeve.   
For a long time she sat there, crying and shivering, a profound loneliness gripping her heart, squeezing her chest painfully.   
She wished for it to just stop, this world to swallow her - but it was the one thing she would never do.

After that - crying and letting it all out for a moment, stepping out of the traumatic haze that had her brain in a tight grip, Hazel had a quick look around the upper floor: She found two skeletons in the bathroom and, after grabbing a bottle of iodine there, quickly closed the door to that room behind her. She did not want to think about them any further. Maybe she'd even known them. Maybe they had been customers. She knew that if she kept following that line of thought she'd break down again and she just couldn't do that now. Not here, alone in a hostile wilderness she was utterly unprepared for.  
  
_Focus on the practicalities.  
_  
She told herself and started to loot the place further. There had to be other people - she was not the first person to enter this building and perhaps even seek shelter here after the original owners had died. Closets and suitcases were mostly ransacked, clothes thrown about without further consideration.  
  
_What do you have to do. What should be your course of action?  
  
_She found a clean shirt and pair of trousers, a belt, but refrained from taking the shoes since the Vault-Tec stuff felt pretty good on her feet, was very much new and she didn't want to stumble around on soles with holes in them.  
There was a small cupboard where she found two bottled of water and a package of cookies that was or was not expired. There were no papers or magazines past the day the bombs fell.  
  
_There is, dumbass._  
  
Her forehead crinkled into a frown - and then it dawned on her and she let her loot fall down where she was standing to grab her pip boy.  
Of course. The internal clock would've kept ticking. The atomic battery would keep this thing running for tens of years. Hell. Probably centuries.  
Hazel hastily pulled the machine over her arm and hit it a few times before it sprang to life.  
  
**October 26, 2287**

She stared at the green number in silence. A mistake. Maybe the device was broken. Maybe too battered from being exposed to the humidity and mold down in the Vault. Hazel tried to reason with herself, tell herself that there must be some sort of mistake, some kind of error in the pip boy. And yet as she tried to convince herself the pieces fell together slowly, irretrievably. Those skeletons. The cars all damaged beyond repair, more rust than metal. The changed environment. Even after the blast, the mutations would've taken .. what ... a couple of reproduction cycles at last? The plants, although withered now - it was october, of course they were withered.   
  
But directly after the blast - everything would've been scorched, right?  
  
After that the train of thought that had tried to rationalize away the date pretty much fell apart.  
She was in the future. Fallen out of time.  
  
_Nora ..._  
  
Maybe Nora was also kept in freeze gel like she was. But, even as the thought ran through her mind, she knew how unlikely this would be. How many probably illegal and definitely inhuman experiments would Vaul-Tec have been able to get past the government radar? She had just been shit out of luck, that was everything. And she wasn't sure what had happened yet anyway - maybe she'd gone popsicle for a good reason.  
  
Even then, doubts still lingered.  
Practicalities. She'd need to focus on practicalities.  
  
First step: Sleep. She could turn over an old moth ridden mattress in the bedroom and guessed herself lucky, because the moths were all regular sized.   
Next step: The cookies were definitely expired, but the old jingle about the new advanced preservation techniques prove to be true: The stuff was still edible. She tipped her non existing hat to past-engineers. Nice job, well done.  
  
Last step: After that she'd have to find human company.  
And once she found human company, she'd find someone who would help her to work out what happened.  
It was all easy. She just had to refrain from breaking down and crying again.  
Easy.

Soon after her mental assessment she collected her loot, switched from the vault suit to a shirt and trousers to sleep and fiddled with the pip-boy some more.  
Hazel had not actually expected to find a radio signal, she had just wanted to keep the her mind busy for a few more minutes.  
"Hey, this, uhh,"   
Hazels breath caught. She flinched away from the dial as if she had just burned her fingers on a hot plate.  
"This is Travis. Miles. I mean, Travis Miles."   
She let the breath out she had held. A voice. A human voice. Another human talking. On the frickin' radio.  
"And I'm playing... I mean ..."   
God, that Dude, Travis, he was terrible. Her mouth stood agape.  
"You're listening to Diamond City Radio."  
Diamond City.  
That sounded like a plan.  
  
She fell asleep to the tune of 'I don't want to set the world on fire'

***

 _The world was grey and shaded._  
_Something close emitted a terrible beeping._  
_A warning of sorts - the thought crawled through her head.  
A rad warning._  
_Each of the thoughts following oozed slowly into her consciousness while her massive form trotted along. Away from the beeping warning sound before she would crush it beneath her massive forepaws. Something pulled her away from the beeping. Something inside her insisted on its importance in that other life she led._  
_It was difficult to concentrate on any thought at all. It was difficult to concentrate on what was important with all that self aware nonsense going on in her head._  
_There were so many sights and sounds surrounding her. The irresistible smell of another somewhere coaxing her to abandon thought altogether._  
_And she was hungry. Oh so hungry. Whatever she had eaten, it was not enough to sustain her for long. She was hungry and itching to stretch and growl and claw at something._  
_All around her was food and opportunity and yet she had done … nothing._  
_Another thought appeared, oozing like honey._  
_What was she doing here?_  
_The thought rolled this way and that way in her head, examined by a part of her that was not moving, sniffing, hunting. The voracious appetite bound her mind to a single aim, did not allow her self to stray away._  
_And yet._  
_What was she doing here?_  
_There was something new and unique she would need to examine. Something that made her feel different. Something that called for blood and fire. A gravelly grunt rushed past her canines._  
_She was hungry and if she was hungry she had to feed._  
_If she were cold, she’d need to find shelter._  
_And if she found shelter, she would sleep._  
_The air from her lungs formed steam in the cold night and marked the path as she went to hunt._

 ***

Hazel awoke gasping for air, curled up on the ground floor of the house. She frantically felt around for her clothes, her weapons, her pip boy - and found none of those items.  
  
"The fuck am I doing here." she muttered to her self, voice low and, fully aware of the danger she was in, she hastily took the stairs upstairs, carefully avoiding the broken wood planks where the creature had tried to hunt her down.  
  
Her clothes were upstairs, lying next to the mattress, as was her pip boy. She must've pushed everything to the side while sleeping and then .. sleep walking?  
  
_Shitty timing for getting into the habit of sleepwalking._  
  
A breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her mouth. She slipped into the vault suit and her shoes and then walked over to the bath out of habit. She probably had to get used to the skeletons.  
  
There in the bathrooms broken mirror her face stared back at her. Insecure and tired.  
And a pair of black eyes, bottomless pits with neither white scleras nor pupils, that widened in shock as realization hit her.  
Something was terribly, horrifyingly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, a kudos, anything really :)


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel reaches Diamond city a bit worse for wear and gets picked up immediately by the Common Wealths no1 reporter.

** Diamond City, November **

Seldom had Piper seen a person as lost as the one in front of her. Assessing her age was difficult with the layers of dirt she was carrying with her. Could’ve been twenty one or twenty nine years beneath black mud and withered leaves stuck in short hair. Her wild looks were pronounced by how she moved and the way she stepped through the tunnel towards the actual gates of Diamond City - each step a choice, each moving muscle a deliberate decision. She was careful to a point where she looked almost frightened, like a wild animal sneaking around at night.   
  
Her eyes were grey and her face spotted dark circles underneath them, a definite sign she hadn't slept properly in at least a couple of days. Piper caught her glance more than once, each time the women had turned her head to look over her shoulder and each time Piper had shown her her most reassuring smile. The young women picked up speed, but Piper was curious and followed suit.  
  
„Hey, you.“ Pipers voice tore through their silence when they stepped back into the light and, at last, Diamond City. The great green jewel.  
  
The wild woman came to a sudden halt and exhaled slowly - deliberately. She did not turn around immediately, instead let her eyes wander over Diamond City, taking it all in with wide eyed wonder. Piper wondered when she had last seen another living human, let alone a settlement.  
When she finally turned around to look at Piper every movement she made was a delicate affair - a result of careful thought. Deeply seated insecurity emanated from her like an aura.  
  
„My name's Piper. Piper Wright. And you look like you've had a rough week.“, the black haired reporters lips split into a comforting grin.  
  
„Make that a month.“, the woman voice came as a surprise to Piper - low and rough, her tone matter-of-factly. It stood in glaring contrast to her appearance. She tugged at the sleeves of her vault suit, betraying the cold tone she had chosen as a facade. She looked wild but beneath that a pair of intelligent eyes studied the reporter closely.

„So, what brings a Vault Dweller to Diamond City?“ Piper asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.  
  
The woman shrugged as a response, looking every bit as lost as Piper had presumed. She had that look about her - that look that piqued Pipers interest as a reporter. That scar? The dried blood on her arm? A damn vault suit and a pip boy? She practically reeked like a Page One story.  
„Tell you what.“ Piper said casually, stretching her arms over her head and giving the woman a lopsided smile. She would not let a fish that big off her hook and the fact that this woman seemed to have no plan for what to do after entering Diamond City only played into Pipers hands.  
  
„I’m Piper. Local press. Always looking for a good story. And you look like the story of the century.“  
  
Her counterpart remained silent, only quirking an eyebrow at her. She was hesitant, but Piper had no qualms about reeling her in. Hell, she did owe her - she knew that if the girl hadn’t played along (or, well, kept silent) she’d still be standing outside the gates. Probably being eaten by ferals right now. Or shot in an 'accident'. She didn't trust the Mayor much further than she could throw a Mr. Handy.  
  
„You give me your story, see if we can make an interview out of it - and I’ll give you all the information you want. Point you to all the right places you're probably looking for right now.“ she offered.  
  
A moment passed without a reaction from the young woman. She was just looking at her, measuring her up with thoughtful grey eyes. The sun caught in her brown hair and exposed the slightest hint of red.  
„Maybe we can also get you a shower and something to eat first.“ Piper conceded, sporting an enthusiastic grin.  
The other woman’s face finally broke into half a smile, exposing the most perfect row of teeth Piper had ever seen in the Commonwealth. She bent her head into a slight nod.  
„I’m Hazel.“  
„Glad to make your acquaintance.“

***

The black haired reporter dragged Hazel back to her own home after their exchange. Piper had decided that a shower and some food had priority in this particular case and she was actually curious to see the woman beneath the mud. Hazel didn't have any desire to argue her on that - they had talked about their plan while walking over to Publick Occurences and it seemed quite possible to thaw the vault dweller out of her taciturn reserve.   
  
The whole affair did remind her of shoving Nat to a shower when she still had been younger, but it all happened with a lot less screaming and cursing. She also had the distinct feeling someone had when they picked up a stray from the streets. If Piper had been completely honest she felt sorry for the lost creature and she did remind her of her sister. It was one of those big sister things, like an instinct one just couldn't fight.  
  
That woman still moved like a frightened cat, ready to jump out of her hide any time. Pipe wondered how she had survived out there, but then the 10mm pistol at one side and the shotgun at the other gave her a good idea. Strangely enough Hazel didn’t strike her as the violent type.   
Which morphed the question that had formed in Pipers head into a different direction: What had this woman experienced?   
Sure, the Commonwealth didn't favor the trusting and kind, but it was rare to see someone as jumpy as her. Maybe she had only left the vault recently - an exile perhaps?  
But before she could start probing Hazel about all that she sent Nat to grab three cups from Takahashi - they were all hungry and it was always strange to just watch other people eat - and left the young women alone to take a long overdue shower.

Piper corrected her former estimate down to ‚early twenties‘ as soon as she saw the young woman step out of the bathroom. There was no way in hell this woman was a day past 23. And despite that gash on her face and the chunk of her nose missing, her lopsided half smile was without a doubt able to sway at least a couple of men and women here in Diamond City from their feet. And there was a glint in her grey eyes, something that spoke of intelligence and strength. This woman here was not stupid, but someone who had been severely thrown off her game and was struggling to regain her footing. The sisterly desire to give her a big hug tugged at Pipers heart but she instead cleared her throat and smiled.  
  
The vault suit was of course a dead give away and she mused wether to offer her some of the clothes she had put to the side for Nat. Maybe it'd put less of a target on her back. A target Hazel probably didn't know of - or had learned of already. The pip boy alone was a reason to be killed in her sleep. Selling it would keep a chem user afloat for months to come.

When Hazel opened her mouth she dared showing a smirk, a dark glint in her eyes.  
„Thank you. I’d never have thought that a simple cold shower would come this close to sex.“  
  
Yeah. She'd have to totally reassess her first impression of Hazel. She was not only smart and skittish, but she did have a pretty quick tongue. Brilliant.  
Nat, who had returned with three steaming cups, gasped, full out teenager. Piper laughed and shook her head, the cap on her head sliding slightly to the side. And after a second they all laughed together, the raspy sound coming from the woman’s throat like a bark. An unusual sound, sure, but none that made anyone gathered in the little house uncomfortable. Hell, that laugh didn't even count when she thought of the Ghouls she had met. It was still fairly human in comparison, although it raised a couple more questions.  
  
„Glad to see there’s actually a human underneath all that dirt, here, have a cup."  
  
It was meant as a light quip, funny and without deeper meaning but something changed as Piper said it.   
  
A shift in the atmosphere of the room. It was subtle, like a soft draft of wind you barely noticed - but it was there, hidden in Hazels features, behind a smile with too much strain in it and eyes that darted for the door. There was a certain edge to her again, a distance in the way she moved and smiled and sat down. Hell, there was a distance - no, it was control - even in the way she began to eat the noodles, although an expression of bliss did settle on her face after the first bite.   
Takahashis noodles could tame wild animals.  
  
„So, tell me.“ said Piper, poking her own cup without eating anything.  
Nat already glanced over to her, probably betting on an extra portion for herself seeing how preoccupied her sister was.  
„You’re a vault dweller?“  
  
Maybe Piper should’ve refrained from asking until they had finished. Hazel froze, one hand half raised with noodles on a bent fork.  
„What’s .. a vault dweller?“ her rough voice had that careful tone. Each syllable picked with intent. The question mark added only after careful consideration. She had never heard someone talk and move with such deliberate precision. It was like watching her execute a complicated dance all by herself.  
  
„Someone who comes from a vault. Someone who grew up there perhaps? I mean .. the suit, the pip boy. You didn't kill someone to get it. Didn't you?“ the reporter cocked her head slightly and put her cup of noodles into Nats hands to reach for her little book and pen. Hopefully the answer would not be 'Yeah I killed a guy for it'. Not that it was unlikely.  
  
Hazel put the noodles into her mouth and chew slowly, savoring and drawing out the moment before she answered.  
„Yes. I am. A Vault Dweller.“  
  
Piper scribbled hastily into that book of hers. She had been right after all. The story of a century. Front Page.  
„What did you …“ the reporter didn’t even get to finish her sentence.  
  
„I don’t wanna talk about it.“ Hazels voice had another edge now, sharp enough to tear the conversation apart. Sharp enough to tear a hole in the world if necessary.  
Piper nodded slowly, eyeing the other woman carefully. Watched as she picked up more noodles, her movements tense and strained. Nat watched them both and had all but forgotten about the extra cup on her lap.  
  
„I’m sorry, Hazel.“  
Hazel nodded briskly before she forced a sort of smile back on her face. It reminded Piper of a snarl. It was a warning. Not an invitation. Only a fool would have mistaken one for the other.  
  
„I’m a vault dweller. And …“ Hazel continued finally. Perhaps out of a sense of obligation. She took a deep breath, as if the things she wanted to tell were weighing her down. That urge to hug her and protect her from the world rose in Pipers chest again.  
  
„It was terrible. I’m … I …“ Hazel stopped herself once more, forced air down her lungs and slowly back up. Piper saw how the bent fork in Hazels hand shivered.  
She took another bite, forced it down and then set the noodle cup down to her feet, wrung her hands in an attempt to do something with them before she forced them to remain still in her lap. She could not hide her tremble but tried to mask its extend.  
  
„I’m from before … all this. From before the war.“  
Pipers eyebrows shot up, she scribbled again. Furiously so now.  
  
„This will make for a perfect story.“ she exclaimed with barely restrained glee and fascination. An actual pre-war person. Not one of those ghouls that had 200 years to blanket their memories in nostalgia, but someone straight out of a vault. From the frying pan into the fire.  
Hazel blinked and said nothing.  
  
„I’m sorry. I shouldn’t … get so excited.“ the reporter took a deep breath to contain herself and bent her head a bit. She had the decency to blush, albeit faintly.  
"But ... how?" the story was unbelievable and yet filled a lot of blank spaced Piper had had about the woman.  
Hazel shrugged, her small shoulders raising and falling helplessly.  
"Some sort of ice jelly thing?"  
  
"Oh. How did that feel?" the question was out before Piper could reign herself in.  
"Cold." Hazel quipped, quirking an eyebrow at the reporter. It could've been another misstep, but the little smile in the corner of Hazels mouth told Piper that she took it with humor.  
„Tell me, what do you remember? From before the war?“  
„Well…“ Hazel began.

***

She stopped in thought, then shrugged and tried to encompass for Piper, and Nat, how 'before' was - or Pre-War as they called it. About walking down the streets without being afraid of being shot or hunted by men and beasts alike. About the swan pond and how elegantly they moved among their real counterparts - which digressed the conversation as Hazel tried to explain the nature of a real life swan (Yes, they were smaller than the plastic counterparts. Which, yes, was a good thing. Because honestly, swans were bad tempered murderous bastards and the last thing Hazel needed in her life were mutated super-swans.)  
  
She then almost lost herself in a description of her favorite shops: A hardware store with everything the heart longed for. Fred, who manned the store from wednesday to saturday and would always ask her out and failed until at one point it had become a running joke they both had to laugh about as soon as she entered the store. About the guy that ran a hot dog stand next to her garage and how she would send customers out because she knew she’d have their appliance fixed in half an hour tops. Some clients came specifically to get a hot dog while waiting.   
  
Her garage. How she had saved up for it and supported her sister while getting a lawyers degree with her job as a mechanic. The first time she blew up a Mr. Handy because the first generation was shit, nothing like the things they had later on. How the snow would pile up in winter and the lights everywhere around christmas.  
  
And then she remembered how she’d driven over to Nora and Nate and fell very silent all of a sudden. She remembered Sanctuary hill, a light blue house in a posh suburb. Laughter over dinner, electricity, her soft bed. The cry of a baby. The marseillaise sung by a robot. And the military and the news and the constant dread that had become a beast lurking in the shadows, waiting to be unleashed onto all of their lifes.  
Dust to Dust.  
  
„Hazel …?“ Pipers warm voice brought her back into reality and she blinked a couple of times.   
  
A look of surprise crept on her face as she realized she had been crying and she hurriedly began to wipe away the tears. Instead of saying anything further she pushed her own leftover cup of noodles over to Nat with her foot. A forced smile pulled at her lips without ever reaching her still wet eyes.  
„You wanna have my cup too, buddy?“  
  
And at that Piper got up and walked over to her. The reporter stood there for a second and then asked, very carefully: "You're in for a hug, Blue?"  
"Blue?" Hazel inquired, her voice hiccuping from an effort to not cry anymore and failing miserably.  
  
"Your jumpsuit."  
A half smile appeared on Hazels face and she nodded weakly. The older woman sat down next to her and pulled her into her arms, holding her for as long as was necessary.   
Taking into account to the way Nat threw her a wry smile over that third cup of noodles it was definitely a big sister thing.

It took Hazel a couple of minutes to get a grip on her tears again and by the end of it she looked bashful and not overly confident. The insecurity was back, shining through the cracks of her icy armor. Piper did have enough material for a pre-war view on the Commonwealth and thus moved the topic away to less hurtful topics. They managed to pin down the route Hazel had taken through the wasteland in little under a month.  
  
"Thanks for the interview. I'm gonna write it tonight and then we're ready to print tomorrow. It'll be a great issue, I promise it."  
  
"Nuh-Uh." Nat raised her voice and cocked her head slightly, mimicking an overly sad shake of the head. Something you perhaps saw on a doctor when you asked how the surgery of a relative had fared and they were about to break the bad news to you.  
  
„Printer’s broken down. We need to ask Nick to fix it.“ Nat slurped a lonely noodle from her cup.  
Then she added with a sigh that sounded almost like her sisters: „Again.“  
  
The gray eyed woman watched the sibling's exchange, painfully reminded of how she and Nora were as kids.  
„Who’s Nick?“ she asked perking up with curiosity.  
  
„Diamond City’s own detective.“ Nat proclaimed proudly, now grinning from ear to ear.  
„Oh.“ Hazel tilted her head ever so slightly.  
  
„He can find you anything and anyone. He's awesome. You should talk to him.“ the youngest continued without making eye contact with anyone.   
She was too busy checking her empty noddle cup in the hopes of some more delightful food to appear magically. Piper, who had caught onto the glint in Hazels eyes, smiled.  
„We can show you the way right in the morning if you want.“  
  
„That would be nice. I think."   
Hazel gave a half shrug that told the whole story about how she didn't have anything better to do anyway.  
Nat began to drone on about how they’d need him anyway tomorrow morning, to come and look over the printer, and how they’d be out of business and how the mayor had probably sabotaged the thing himself or sent some of his thugs to do it.   
Because he hated free press. And he was a synth. Definitely a synth.  
That raised another eyebrow but Hazel didn't ask.  
  
„Y’know, I happen to think free press is pretty important."  
The formerly wild woman smiled wryly, eyeing Nat for her reaction.  
  
„And .. I happen to be a mechanic." she shifted in her chair. A bit uncomfortable about engaging in conversation as much as she did right now.  
But however she had planned on putting it, Nat just seized the opportunity as it presented itself.  
  
"Can you fix the printer? You can, can you? You fixed Mr. Handys."  
Piper rolled her eyes at her little sister but remained silent, keeping the scolding to herself for now. Instead she looked curiously over to Hazel.  
"I think I can have a look ..." Hazel conceded.  
Nat groaned with happiness and sprang to action immediately. Piper laughed.

***

The printer turned out to be scrapped from at least three different machines (and not all of them designed to .. print) but Hazel was impressed with the ingenious way everything fit together.   
Being honest with herself she actually felt right at home with the task - it gave her hands something familiar to do, which sent a wave of reassurance through her. She'd not be completely useless here. She got the faintest hope, a first glimmer, of actually adapting to this world.   
She worked herself around cylinders and ink until she got to a broken cog and huffed at how it was always the smallest piece that broke everything.  
  
It was actually fun to fix the printer - while Piper kept a bit of distance, probably trying to respect her personal space, Nat was curious and attentive. The younger girl -almost a women, Hazel thought - soon began to hand her the tools she requested and inquired about the parts and pieces as she disassembled, and later reassembled them.  
  
Nat was also the one who inquired where she'd sleep tonight - to which Hazel had no answer. After a month of rough sleeping in the Commonwealth she'd probably just have looked for a corner in Diamond City where she wouldn't disturb anyone and slept there. She didn't have money - or caps - and had no time to earn any yet.  
Piper caught her gaze once more. Every time the reporter, this stranger a mere few hours ago, looked at Hazel she felt a painful pang in her gut. Although both women were completely different she was reminded of Nora.  
  
"If you want you can crash here. I owe you for the printer. You can take a couple of days to get back on your feet, if you want to Blue."  
Nat grinned happily. Hazel hesitated, her shoulders moving up and down indecisive.  
  
"I don't know ... do they ... need mechanics ...?"  
Piper threw her head back in laughter at the ingenuous question and Hazel actually snickered, realizing her mistake.  
  
"Thanks, Piper." Hazel said, suddenly serious again. Piper waved a hand, but the young women shook her head vigorously.  
"No. I mean it. It's ... a man eat man world outta here. You're very generous."  
"Yeah, maybe you'll have to give me a couple more interviews. Or I'll cut Nats allowance during your stay."  
"Oi!"  
They all laughed again.

***

"Night, Hazel."  
"Night, Piper. Night, Nat." the sisters slept upstairs while Hazel stayed on the ground floor. A used mattress had been procured from somewhere in the house, as well as a blanket.  
  
It would be the first night in a long line of terrible nights and as night fell over Diamond City and Hazel watched the cities lights terror gripped her heart.  
She pulled the backpack she had found along the way closer to her chest began rummaging in it.  
  
She would not let it happen tonight. Out and alone in the dark she had resigned to her new fate, her new reality, had given in to the need to be and feel differently. And somewhere deep down in her heart she knew it satiated a desire she had not known before, in the old world.  
  
Whatever had happened while she had slept had changed her profoundly.  
But she would not bring these two people to harm.  
  
The young woman produced an inhaler with shivering hands, glancing nervously over to the stairs.   
Would they tolerate someone who did drugs in their house? Probably not.   
She would not have. And yet.   
The alternative was dreadful and this was the only way she had to keep it at bay.   
The only way she had found so far.  
Throwing another glance over to the stairs she squeezed the trigger, inhaled and sank into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're meeting the crew.  
> I'm a huge fan of Nick, so - yay Nick. We're gonna get you (probably).
> 
> Leave kudos or a comment :) I'll happily respond to everyone


	5. A Search and a Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay, new chapter. We get to meet the detective.

Nick Valentine was gone.  
Not just gone, he went away fairly often according to his assistant, Ellie - Hazel couldn’t help but take an immediate liking to her -, he was missing.  
Usually he’d return after a couple of days or so but this time things were a little different.

Hazel gave herself permission to hang around in the background of the scene unfolding before her and resigned to simply watch.  
Piper was digging deep into the story of Nicks disappearance and although Hazel could see the concern flickering in the reporters eyes she was not at all sure if she wasn’t also grabbing a new story along the way.

But who were she to blame.

She was currently crashing on the couch, well, mattress, of a person 200 years younger than herself and infinitely more equipped to deal with this new world.

Back in her dark corner she squirmed a bit, uncomfortable with her own thoughts.  
  
„He went WHERE doing WHAT?“ Piper almost yelled.  
Her voice was on the edge of something that would be either anger or crying once it reached its peak, but where Ellie had settled on crying, Hazel assumed Piper would swing the other way.

  
„I know! I told him!“ the brown headed woman practically yelled back and Hazel repressed a sudden urge to go over and hug her.  
„UGH. That’s insane.“  
Piper groaned in frustration.  
„Someone’s got to have a look. He could be a prisoner. He could be … could be …“ Ellie stared at the lot of them, a plead plastered all over her expression.  
„Dead.“ Hazel finished the other womans sentence. Her voice rumbled through the room, uncomfortable in her own throat. She wondered briefly if she’d ever get used to it.  
Piper shot her a punitive glance, to which Hazel raised her shoulders trying to look at least a little bit apologetically.

Ellie sobbed.  
„I didn’t say .. he was.“ Hazel conceded as Pipers glance transformed into a downright stare. Perhaps she’d have to do without the mattress tonight.  
„I’ll go look for him.“ the reporter threw her black hair back, a determined expression pulled over her features. A soft gasp escaped Ellies mouth. Hazel shook her head in disagreement.

  
„No way.“  
„I can handle myself out there, girls.“  
„And what about Nat?“ Hazel felt her eyebrows knit and her forehead furrow.  
„She' manage.“ Piper said with a throwaway gesture that left the distinct impression of anything but this being a casual remark. Hazel closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Nora would’ve acted the same. Thrown herself into the fray if all else failed. And yet Hazel thought about Nat and the spring in her step and that remnant of innocence this world hadn’t yet burned out of her.  
  
„I’ll go.“ her voice was a low growl, aching in her throat. It was deep and feral and woke a deep buried fear in the corner of the other women's eyes - they didn’t know it perhaps, wouldn’t pinpoint it, but it was there.

  
„We go together then“ demanded Piper but Hazel shook her head again. The first strains of nut brown hair were now long enough to block her eyes and she pushed them back behind her ears.  
  
„I’m going alone.“ she insisted, pushed herself off the wall in her dark corner and stepped over to the main stage, so to speak.  
Piper opened her mouth to protest but Hazel quickly lifted a finger and shook her head more vigorously.  
„No. Really.“ the young women tried to pull a big confident smile on her lips but it frayed at the ends and she felt her own insecurity as much as she saw it in Pipers skeptical eyes.  
  
But for no money on earth did she want to have Piper with her. Yes, of course, it was dangerous on the outside - she had encountered a number of beasts and non-beasts on the way and had learned most of their names from Nat this morning, while trying to force down the very sad excuse of a coffee the future had decided to hold for her.  
  
But there was also danger inside. Inside her. She remembered how she had won most of those fights with the thing. At first things had been fuzzy, no pun intended, but after a while the haze in her mind had started to clear up and offer her not only some degree of control but also recognition. Knowledge and a certain sentience. A connection to the thing within.

Not that she trusted it. She hated and resented it and had raided a den full of half dead addicts until she had found something that would keep the other thing at bay when she didn’t want it. 

It had proven useful - and even controllable to a degree - in a fight though. And she was full intent on using everything at her advantage she was offered.

„That’s crazy, Blue. Let me come with you."  
Piper sounded almost as if she was pleading with her.  
  
„No. Look. I have my shotgun. I have a pistol. I can bite them in the ankle if necessary.“ Hazel pulled up a wry smile on her face.  
„Just tell me where he went exactly. I … remember this city. I’ll get there. Find the guy and drag him back at his collar.“  
  
Ellie managed a stifled laugh, probably hoping it would unfold exactly like that.  
„I don’t like the sound of that, Blue.“ Piper said, a smile tugging at her lips yet not convinced.  
„You don’t have to. Just … point me in the right direction and I’ll be back before you know it.“

Valentines assistant exchanged a glance with the journalist - Hazel watched some sort of silence conversation that spoke of a deeper understanding between the two of them. They had all known each other for a long time and it almost felt like she was trespassing here.  
„Okay“ Piper let out a deep begrudgingly sigh.  
„Great. Anything I need to know to recognize the guy?"  
Another one of those knowing glances. Both shrugged rather noncommittal and Ellie just gave a brief description of a man in a trench coat and a worn fedora, old style detective. She’d ‚know him when she saw him‘.  
Which wasn’t ominous at all.

 

* * *

Not exactly fifteen hours later - it had gotten dark and stormy outside and the first drops of rain and a heavy smell hung in the air - she regretted ever getting out of that tank at Vaul-Tec and every decision that had followed thereafter.

Her head hurt - one ghoul thug had snuck up behind her and before she could evade his blow he had struck her right across the face. The bastard was dead now. Dead-er perhaps. She wasn’t sure yet and didn’t have time to ponder the implications of ghoul-dom in detail. The side of her head throbbed with a sharp pain. Her hand had come back wet with blood.

And that had only been the beginning of the journey. 

Park Street station had stretched into a vault, wherein she was hiding behind a control panel right now, her hand grasping her leg where a bullet had grazed her skin.  
The pain set her thighs aflame and crept upwards through her nerves, made her feel itchy and uneasy and wrong in her own skin.  
It was back. It was close to her own skin, itching to get out and partake in the fight. It was whispering in her ear, telling her to just rip them apart.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, then checked the map on her pip boy. If the detective was in here somewhere he couldn’t be much farther. That’s what she had decided on at least. She hadn’t come across a dead person that matched Ellies, or Pipers, description - so there was that.  
Another bullet ricocheted off a wall nearby. There were yells. They were teasing her. Mocking her to come out and play with them.  
Another bullet, another hole in the wall nearby. Concrete trickled down the wall.  
„Not so brave anymore, are we, eh?“ the voice of the ghoul sounded hollow being reflected by the vaults narrow tunnels.  
„Ye really don’t want that.“ Hazel growled in return, her own voice just gibberish reflecting back. The sense of what she said lost.  
Yet another bullet, this time too close for comfort.

„Come out, coward!“ another voice echoed through the tunnel.

Hazel counted the bullets of her shotgun, reloaded and took a deep breath. 

The thing inside tugged playfully at her mind, amplified by the pain that surged up and down in her body.  
It was now or never. She darted forward, shotgun cocked.  
  
Nick Valentine had barely time to finish mocking Dino.  
One moment the thug was engaged in their back and forth about him getting on the bosses bad side, the next he slunk down, a booming shot ringing in the detectives ears even through the door and his own metal frame. It had to be a clean shot since he didn’t hear any further struggle.

„Whoever you are - we got three minutes until they realize that muscles-for-brain ain’t coming back.“ his voice rang through the room and hopefully to the outside. A small shadow was moving outside. Then silence. The signature sound of fingers on a keyboard. Then more silent and finally the sound of a freedom - the door to his temporary prison sliding open.  
The thought occurs to him that instead of someone coming to get him out it could be someone else to try and settle a debt with him.

God, or whatever, knew that he had made enough enemies for a couple of lifetimes - wives and husbands caught in indiscriminating situations, runaway teens tugged back by their earlobes.  
But he had a hunch and his old senses didn’t disappoint him when a young women stepped in - her shotgun still lifted at him, a bloody cut on her forehead with already the bright colors of several hematoma creeping up under her skin. She’d be blue and purple and swollen by tomorrow. Her undergarments were covered in enough blood and bodily fluids as well as the occasional piece of leather armor that he almost failed to recognize it as a vault suit.

Perhaps those circuits were growing a bit old by now.

He lit a cigarette, illuminating his own face and inhaled deeply into fake lungs.  
„Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel in distress scenario“, he stepped forward, cocking his head slightly to the side.

A pair of jet black eyes looked back at him. Her face went through an array of emotions at the sight of him: Surprise, Confusion, a question briefly popping up and being tugged back behind a careful facade and then a neutrality that looked like something she had only recently started to cultivate.  
In short - she piqued his professional interest.

„Question is“, he took another drag from his cigarette. Although the nicotine would do nothing for his synth body anymore it still got a few wheels turning, even if only out of habit. "Why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?“

„Heroine“, she actually snorted, her voice a stark contrast to her physique which he would’ve described as petite if he’d have to write a missing persons description on her.  
„You not?“, the detective retorted, yellow eyes following her movement as she finally lowered the shotgun.  
She shook her head and threw a careful glance over her shoulder.  
„Look, I’d like to stay here and chit-chat. I’m here because I’ve been told you could help me. And there's a hundred guys outside this door that'd love a piece of my skin.“ a small sigh escaped from between her lips. Her dark eyes - no pupils, only blackness, like looking too deep into a well - were impossible to read.  
„You’re right.“, he nodded curtly at her in response and crushed the butt of his cigarette between a heel.

Afraid of the fire hazard, huh, Valentine?, he thought to himself.  


„Let’s get out of here first. A stimpak or two for you. Then let’s talk business.“

A small smile flickered across her face, like lightning illuminating the night sky.

„Yes“, she said and her voice echoed through the room like the deep rumble of the earth beneath their feet.  



	6. Rad Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicks a good old fashioned gentleman  
> Just what Hazel needs right now.  
> Nick also knows people - and 'somewhat ghoulish' and 'drugs' definitely rings a bell for a certain address.

The green flashes of a nearby radstorm steeped Park Street station into an eerie light. Shots rang in the distance and the sound of thunder hang in the air heavily. Nick Valentine lit another cigarette as he stepped out of Park Street stations backdoor and pushed the brim of his hat up, just as the first drops of rain splashed against their tired shapes.

That idiot Skinny Malone. That dead idiot Skinny Malone.  
He pulled at his cigarette, shuffled his feet and turned around to face the young woman that had taken it up on herself to rescue him.

And kill that dead idiot Skinny Malone.

She’d not even winced. Only irritated determination in her eyes when he spoke up to tease them.  
And then she’d shot him.  
A clean shot, leaving a not so clean hole where a part of Malones heart had been.

Ruthless necessity. He stared at the glow of his cigarette for a second, then turned his head to look at her again.

Now outside the station and the vault she had her eyes closed - her face was turned up to the sky, her expression neither prayer nor rest, simply something in between.  
„We should get you inside, m’am.“ the detective said around his cigarette, one hand pushed into the pocket of his pants.

 Prying one eye half open he supposed she was looking over to him but it was hard to tell without his sensors being able to pick up the movement of a pupil. Night vision or not, he had no chance of reading that expression.

„You look like a detective from back then.“ she simply stated instead of acknowledging his concern.

 He took another drag from his cigarette, felt the nicotine in his artificial lungs and then flipped the butt of the cigarette from his fingers into the dark. A faint trail of light illuminated its path to the ground and then died in a small puddle of water.

 „I really don’t, doll.“ his voice felt surprisingly gentle in his own throat. The rain was now dripping off of the brim of his hat. His trench coat shimmered light green and grey and reflected the sparse lights around them.

The young women turned around to face him, her eyes meeting his yellow gaze, unwavering. She was not from Diamond City - he would have hung his trench coat by the door and quit being a detective if he hadn’t noticed THAT - and didn’t shy away from the grey plastics of his body.

She seemed thoroughly unimpressed - as if he were just another curiosity of the wastelands, no emotions attached.  
But then …  
He held her gaze, wondered while she stood there, unimpressed by rain and rads.

It was then when the rain splashed on her face and the strains of her short hair clung to her head that the blackness in her eyes trickled away, somehow pulled back into her eyes and only left the grey circles of a women too young to stand outside in a rad storm. At least ten years had melted off her face, left her looking a lot more vulnerable - the scar no more a sign of a hardened cold blooded fighter but a lost girl struggling.

A wounded animal fighting with teeth and claws, fighting down to blood and bones.

Nick Valentine felt the innate desire to throw his trench coat over her shoulders rise in his chest.

„The .. radiation.“ she finally began and stepped over to him.

 „It doesn’t seem to bother me, y’know.“ she lifted her shoulders in some sort of a helpless half shrug, the walls she had kept up slowly peeling away. Giving light to the woman behind.

„Let’s not put it to the test.“ he sighed and slipped out of his trench coat to put it around her shoulders in one swift movement. 

„You’ll also catch a cold and we’re rather short on apples here.“ his mechanic hand landed on her shoulder and with one reaffirming squeeze he simply shoved her under the next roof (and away from the pond but that was yet another thing. He didn’t want to get anyone killed today, that was the main point.)

„I probably don’t want to meet the doctors either“ she muttered in return, a small smile tugging at her lips and he felt a lopsided smile creep up on his own synthetic features.

„Not sure of that. Not particularly the type to visit a doctor often.“ he chuckled.

She froze, a faint flush of red on her cheeks, and then pulled the trench coat instinctively closer.

„Uh .. sorry.“

„Don’t be.“

His chuckle slowly died and silence settled between them for a while. Only the rain and the storm, the rustling of autumn leaves whenever a breeze surged through the streets.

He had interviewed enough people in his life - or his non-life - to know when it was time to wait out someone’s brooding.

She stared out into the rain, very young and looking smaller than before in his coat. He slowly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and leant against a brittle doorframe. No cigarette, only watching her and their surroundings, waiting for the rain or her silence to stop. Whichever came first.

„I’m Hazel.“

Valentine raised one hand to tip his hat at her.

„Thanks again for getting this damsel out of distress.“ his voice was nonchalant but the small crinkle of his eyebrows betrayed his casual demeanor.

„Piper told me you could help me. And … your assistant told us where you had went off to.“ she answered his unasked question.

„And then I went alone …“ she caught his reprimanding gaze and lifted her shoulders once more, then gestured to her face.  
„I didn’t … I didn’t want her to see, you know.“

_So she knew_ , he thought and gave her a small nod as an answer. She knew but she probably didn’t know what was happening. Not that he really knew. He had an idea, but it was not exactly like he had seen that special kind of weird before.

„And when I saw you….“ she took a deep breath. Her voice had dropped into a rasp while talking and she coughed. When she spoke again it was gone but her voice was still deep and husky and he imagined that it was not how she was used to her voice being.

„I need help. I’m .. taking stuff to make it stop. And I need to know how it happened. And what’s happening. You’re a detective. Piper said you know people. And … and that you could help me.“

That last sentence almost drowned out in a hundred emotions boiling up at once - an unpleasant mixture of loss and dread and something twisting behind her grey eyes mirroring so perfectly the storm that raged inside and was hidden before. The storm outside seemed merely a weak reflection of what she tamed herself.

„Easy now, doll.“ he murmured.

She ground her teeth, jaws clenched and tense. If it weren’t for the sensors the institute had equipped him with he would’ve missed the small shiver that had taken hold of her hands.

He didn’t approve of chems - he had seen, in this life and in the life of the Valentine before, too often what chems could do to people, how they turned and twisted them until even their family would fail to recognize them.

But he was not a Javert beyond empathy and reason and he recognized distress when it stared him in the face.

It was a look he’d worn himself once upon a time. A painful tug where his heart had been reminded him of that. It carried a name and another face with it.

Which made his choice only all the more difficult - the person he knew, the person he thought could help had already come to mind. 

He’d known him for years as a passing presence, not a friend exactly but someone you’d nod to when you saw him on the street.

They were both guests in each others lives, never close but always only the turn of a head away.

Not that one saw him in Diamond Cities streets anymore nowadays.

Her hands fiddled with the small bag that was strapped to her leather belt. She pulled out a container of jet and, avoiding Nicks intense eyes, quickly took a puff.

Her pupils dilated almost immediately and some of the tenseness of her body eased away.

„I change, Mr. Valentine.“ she said then, her tone defeated and flat.

„You … can’t imagine …“ she muttered.

„Wasn’t born a synth myself, you know.“, he stated, once again just a fact that was carried with half a smile to let her know everything was alright.

„But I do know someone who’s better equipped to help you“, he said quickly before she could open her mouth to respond or, even worse, ask questions. This was not about him but about her. She’d come to him for help and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least … nudge her on.

She perked up in interest - her whole body moved, shifted under his trench coat.

„Anyone with a case of creepy eye syndrome?“ she joked, her voice rasping again. She pulled a face that twisted the scar tissue running down her features.

Nick chuckled, then nudged with his chin to the fading storm. „We’ll go, pay the mayor of Goodneighbor.“

 


End file.
